hand the number of missions he'd been on where everything had gone like
clockwork. He tried to be prepared for mechanical breakdowns, accidents, forces of nature,
but there was no way to plan for the human factor. He didn't know how the kidnappers had
been alerted to the SEALs' presence, but he had considered that possibility from the beginning
and made an alternate plan in case something went wrong. Something had—exactly what, he
would find out later: except for that brief communication with his men, telling them to
withdraw and switch to the alternate plan, they had maintained radio silence.
Probably it was pure bad luck, some late-night citizen unexpectedly stumbling over
one of his men. Things happened. So he had formulated Plan B, his just-in-case plan,
because as they had worked their way toward the building, he'd had an uneasy feeling.
When his gut told him something, Zane listened. Bunny Withrock had once given him a
narrow-eyed look and said, "Boss, you're even spookier than the Spook." But they trusted his
instincts, to the point that mentally they had probably switched to Plan B as soon as he'd
voiced it, before he had even gone into the building.
With Miss Lovejoy to consider, he'd opted for safety. That was why he had gone in alone,
through the window, after Spook's reconnaissance had reported that the kidnappers had set
guards at intervals throughout the first floor. There were no lights in any of the rooms on
the fourth floor, where Miss Lovejoy was reportedly being held, so it was likely there was no
guard actually in the room with her; a guard wouldn't want to sit in the darkness.
The kidnappers had inadvertently pinpointed the room for him: only one window had
been covered with curtains. When Zane had reached that room, he had carefully parted the
heavy curtains to make certain they hadn't shielded an interior light, but the room beyond had
been totally dark. And Miss Lovejoy had been there, just as he had expected.
Now, ostensibly with nothing left to guard, the kidnappers all seemed to be grouped
together. Zane cat-footed through the lower rooms until he reached the other staircase, then
climbed silently upward. Thanks to Spooky, he knew of a fakly secure place to take Miss
Lovejoy while they waited for another opportunity for extraction; all he had to do was get her
there undetected. That meant he had to do it before dawn, because a half-naked, red-haired
Western woman would definitely be noticeable in this Islamic country. He wouldn't exactly
blend in himself, despite his black hair and tanned skin, because of his dark cammies, web gear
and weaponry. Most people noticed a man with camouflage paint on his face and an
automatic rifle slung over his shoulder.
He reached the room where he'd left Miss Lovejoy and entered as quietly as he'd left. The
room was empty. Alarm roared through him, every muscle tightening, and then he saw the
small, dark hump on the floor and realized that she had curled up with the thin survival
blanket over her. She wasn't moving. Zane listened to the light, almost inaudible evenness of her
breathing and realized she had gone to sleep. Again he felt that subtle inner clenching. She
had been on edge and terrified for hours, obviously worn out but unable to sleep; the slight
measure of security he'd been able to give her, consisting of his shirt, a blanket and a temporary,
precarious hiding place, had been enough for her to rest. He hated to disturb her, but they had to
move.
Gently he put his hand on her back, lightly rubbing, not shaking her awake but easing
her into consciousness so she wouldn't be alarmed. After a moment she began stirring under his
touch, and he felt the moment when she woke, felt her instant of panic, then her quietly determined reach for control.
"We're moving to someplace safer," he whispered, removing his hand as soon as he
saw she was alert. After what she had been through, she wouldn't want to endure a
clockwork. He tried to be prepared for mechanical breakdowns, accidents, forces of nature,
but there was no way to plan for the human factor. He didn't know how the kidnappers had
been alerted to the SEALs' presence, but he had considered that possibility from the beginning
and made an alternate plan in case something went wrong. Something had—exactly what, he
would find out later: except for that brief communication with his men, telling them to
withdraw and switch to the alternate plan, they had maintained radio silence.
Probably it was pure bad luck, some late-night citizen unexpectedly stumbling over
one of his men. Things happened. So he had formulated Plan B, his just-in-case plan,
because as they had worked their way toward the building, he'd had an uneasy feeling.
When his gut told him something, Zane listened. Bunny Withrock had once given him a
narrow-eyed look and said, "Boss, you're even spookier than the Spook." But they trusted his
instincts, to the point that mentally they had probably switched to Plan B as soon as he'd
voiced it, before he had even gone into the building.
With Miss Lovejoy to consider, he'd opted for safety. That was why he had gone in alone,
through the window, after Spook's reconnaissance had reported that the kidnappers had set
guards at intervals throughout the first floor. There were no lights in any of the rooms on
the fourth floor, where Miss Lovejoy was reportedly being held, so it was likely there was no
guard actually in the room with her; a guard wouldn't want to sit in the darkness.
The kidnappers had inadvertently pinpointed the room for him: only one window had
been covered with curtains. When Zane had reached that room, he had carefully parted the
heavy curtains to make certain they hadn't shielded an interior light, but the room beyond had
been totally dark. And Miss Lovejoy had been there, just as he had expected.
Now, ostensibly with nothing left to guard, the kidnappers all seemed to be grouped
together. Zane cat-footed through the lower rooms until he reached the other staircase, then
climbed silently upward. Thanks to Spooky, he knew of a fakly secure place to take Miss
Lovejoy while they waited for another opportunity for extraction; all he had to do was get her
there undetected. That meant he had to do it before dawn, because a half-naked, red-haired
Western woman would definitely be noticeable in this Islamic country. He wouldn't exactly
blend in himself, despite his black hair and tanned skin, because of his dark cammies, web gear
and weaponry. Most people noticed a man with camouflage paint on his face and an
automatic rifle slung over his shoulder.
He reached the room where he'd left Miss Lovejoy and entered as quietly as he'd left. The
room was empty. Alarm roared through him, every muscle tightening, and then he saw the
small, dark hump on the floor and realized that she had curled up with the thin survival
blanket over her. She wasn't moving. Zane listened to the light, almost inaudible evenness of her
breathing and realized she had gone to sleep. Again he felt that subtle inner clenching. She
had been on edge and terrified for hours, obviously worn out but unable to sleep; the slight
measure of security he'd been able to give her, consisting of his shirt, a blanket and a temporary,
precarious hiding place, had been enough for her to rest. He hated to disturb her, but they had to
move.
Gently he put his hand on her back, lightly rubbing, not shaking her awake but easing
her into consciousness so she wouldn't be alarmed. After a moment she began stirring under his
touch, and he felt the moment when she woke, felt her instant of panic, then her quietly determined reach for control.
"We're moving to someplace safer," he whispered, removing his hand as soon as he
saw she was alert. After what she had been through, she wouldn't want to endure a
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